Tactical Espionage Expert
by lalunaticscribe
Summary: Case File #54: The Fudo family as implicated in a matter for the SIS, in which the Arcadia Movement stands as a potential enemy of Queen and country. Or: The formation of Setsuka Shimotsuki by the result of a man in Her Majesty's Secret Service.
1. Prologue: Swordsman from a Distant Land

_**Tactical Espionage Expert**_

_**An LLS Production**_

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue: Swordsman from a Distant Land<strong>

_I wasn't always like this._

The words hung in the air as I laid on a mink-lined couch. Across from me, the Mind on Air attempted to make a small note that I read upside down, despite that no written record was supposed to exist. If I imagined strongly enough, perhaps the words would take solid form and I could make her use the frost to write them upon her flesh.

"We are not the people we often believe we are, ma'am," the Mind on Air commented.

"We do not pay for pedantry," I warned.

The Duel Spirit shrunk back. "I must say, it's not often that I... I am given royal appointment. Ma'am."

My anger did not appease itself. "In the mortal world, there is a saying: _Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown._ I find it difficult to express myself; half-truths dog my paths within the Courts of Winter. Today we are here, because I find myself losing trust in my faithful retainer Dewloren despite our common ground." I paused. "It has been since my fourteenth summer that I began to lose trust in Winter's majordomo. Perhaps that was also the catalyst of my change."

"What happened then?" she nearly flinched as the Winter Queen's mantle of power seemed to stir.

I stayed silent, before I started. "We went to London."

* * *

><p>The June that she arrived in London, it snowed.<p>

An Aston Martin DBS was parked, the vintage automobile parked in place somewhere around of London's Heathrow Airport. A cold, fog-laden wind blew, bringing the heavy downpours of rain so familiar to England's capital. Squatting on top of a roof, a blond man yawned, stifling the gesture in a half-hearted manner.

A car rolled down.

It was black, unmarked, and so nondescript as to be suspicious. The TX4 narrowly escaped having its wheels shot off of the tunnel road because of a bored secret agent. Neither agent nor automobile should have noticed, was it not that the car stopped at the road shoulder.

The window rolled open, and from within the dark confines, a slim, black-clad arm poked out. The fingers were small, well-formed, clearly not fully grown. One finger made a pointing gesture.

Said agent, peering through the scope attached on his rifle, had the feeling that the owner of that arm was gesturing to him. The hand made another gesture, and then a small wave that had nothing innocent of meaning and everything to do with a vague warning, before it withdrew back into the confines of the car. The glossy polymer rolled back up, and the car rolled away with its triple-glaze armour intact, leaving the agent of MI6 stunned, soaked, and rapidly getting colder as the downpour froze, and rain became half-frozen pellets of hail.

* * *

><p>"We arrived in Heathrow International Airport without the knowledge of Cheryl Madison, then," I continued. "We were not even supposed to stop within the United Kingdom in the first place; Paris, the land of my parents' romantic honeymoon destination, was our destination to ensure the continued running of the French arm of the European Arcadia Movement. It would be by complete coincidence that I would find myself and my guardians landing there."<p>

"The humans survived Winter's wrath?" my psychologist questioned.

"The Winter Queen..." I slowly admitted. "She dwells in my bones, blood and spirit, but no, we held fast. It is for that reason that you see an adult, and not a child crowned as Queen."

"And you had no entourage?"

"The butler," I admitted. "Raiho is an able butler, but we find Nakamura Iemitsu to be the most loyal of creatures. Were it not that my estranged cousin holding the larger claim to his service and loyalty, I would imagine that I would have made special provision for him within Our Court. He promised that I could buy my weight in tea when I made my objections clear. Another member was James Crocodile Cook the Second. It was only with these two men that I arrived, to attend to the man who would be crowned in Summer and his father."

She paused. "You and your consort assisted Winter's enemy, ma'am?"

"We were uneasy allies then," I confessed. "I did not know that he would be Summer's vessel, but it made everything laid out perfectly for my final gambit as a human being to escape the curse of Winter. Know nothing else, save that it failed."

"Of course, ma'am."

"James held my hand and led me to the Customs and Excise counter," I reminisced. "We declared nothing, but I brought a suitcase of cards along. His dark eyes crinkling in amusement, and I remember a desire to inflict violence upon his person. His amusement gave me a warm feeling that I had made someone smile. I had not made anyone smile since my family shattered and I made the contract that awakened Winter's Queen."

"Do you regret?" the Mind on Air questioned. She immediately shrank back later, though.

"...is there a point?"

* * *

><p>"Oh, hello," the Customs officer mentioned once it was my turn to exit the queue and have my passport stamped. "First time in London, sweetie?"<p>

Somewhere behind the desk, a lamp flickered. The insipid species of woman seemed not to have noticed the difference in temperature in the air. "Well now, don't be shy. Passport?"

The girl in black slid the documents over. A passing surveillance camera ceased its sweeping arc to focus on her features, before the lens winked out and the LED died a horrendous death.

"Japanese, Setsuka Shimotsuki..." the woman smiled, stamping the book with a heavy rubber thing of the last century and then handing it back, closed. "Welcome to London! Oh, erm... right."

"I truly hope so." the girl spoke in English tinged with some unknown mix of accent as she left. A small plant may or may not have been frozen solid in her wake, before two personages followed behind her.

Either way, they left Heathrow International Airport in a black cab before she looked out of the window, towards London sprawled out. In many respects London was much like Neo Domino, though at least the road surveillance would have been oriented more towards the speeding cars rather than the innocent cabs and their passengers in the rain.

_Look outside_.

What did _they_ want from a multitude of buildings- A ray of light shone through. A mirror? A reflective surface. Not the drizzle that hung overcast, but something smaller, almost small enough to be ignored if it were not for the invisible retinue.

"Please stop by the road shoulder," she asked the cabbie.

"Now, miss, I'm busy-"

Ice blue met the man's eyes squarely in the rear-view mirror. Whatever he must have seen there made him stop in silence and stunned him into compliance. As he stopped, the window rolled open and she waved, smiling slightly before it closed and the driver to continue onwards.

"Where to, then?" the driver started conversing, since the imminent threat had passed.

The oldest of the trio spoke with the address.

"Oh, you're with them Arcadians, eh?"

"Business," he replied neutrally. "Necessity dictates."

"Oh, I know," the driver winked. "Bloody Arcadia Movement, some of them came with the police! Right, _pfft_, as if they can amount to anything."

"I think they will do admirably," the older man commented again. The younger man said nothing, his eyes merely hidden under a broad-brimmed hat.

"Heard the case about that lad, the scientist," the driver shook his head, "quite a looker, the kid. Too bad he's a monster."

The glass cover of the speedometer cracked in warning, possibly from the cold of fluctuating temperatures. Wheels skidded, rubber cracking, fake leather upholstery running with cracks under fingers. The door opened, window cracking as well as Setsuka climbed out. A heartbeat later, the two men followed, the younger of the two nodding to the driver before all three left. The engine began to catch fire.

"Reimburse our driver, Nakamura-san," her request was cold, polite and chilling. "We will not see him again. Crux will have seen to that."

"Of course, Missy," was his only reply. "I believed that we agreed to restrict the violence to a minimum?"

"Take it to him," she nodded to the third of the trio, who smiled. "He just set the cab on fire."

"Better than the man facing your wrath," Jimmy Cook replied, shaking his head. "Why are we here?"

"Ah," she commented. "I've just seen a face."

* * *

><p>"That was our first meeting," I reflected. "The man who created a Winter Queen, a hand in the greatest terror of humanity."<p>

A belle went off, its shrill echo muted quickly as the Mind on Air sat up. "Our appointment is concluding, Your Majesty."

"Very well." I rose to leave.

"If I may ask... what was his name?" The door had barely opened before I looked back and smiled.

"Bond. James Bond."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Critique, <strong>__**s'il vous plaît**__**!**_


	2. I: Silver Sentinel

_**Tactical Espionage Expert**_

_**Notes: **_

_**The prologue has been updated to match consistency with the tone of the story.**_

_**This will probably be incomprehensible to anyone who hasn't followed Infernity Mirage or any of my YGO 5Ds fics. For the purposes of knowledge, just know that most of the story's focus takes on the Arcadia Movement post-Divine, with the assumption of the continuation of the Arcadia Movement to a more ideal position, and in fact takes place post-5Ds. This dossier is thus provided with further information.**_

_**On a side note, the purpose of this story, personally, is to develop Setsuka Shimotsuki as a real character. Which means more drama and hopefully less explosions. Maybe.**_

* * *

><p><strong>I: Silver Sentinel<strong>

Two weeks before, this memorandum had gone from Station S of the Secret Service to M, the new M who had taken over from she who had died in the infamous operation known only as Skyfall henceforth. It went as followed:

To: M

From: Station J

Subject: Imminent presence of Setsuka Shimotsuki (alias 'Cold Queen', 'Winter' etc.), of the Arcadia Movement, the primary source of resources and funding by which individuals known as 'Psychic Duelists' rally behind.

Documentation: Biography of Shimotsuki is attached at Appendix A. Also, Appendix B, a note on the Arcadia Movement.

This exemplary and dangerous child-queen has, for some time, played with the great powers of the world and disregarded law and norms alike in her consolidation of power far beyond any normal individual, let alone one of her youth. Insight into private affairs have proven near-futile to gather, were it not for the efforts of one of our agents (No. 0752) controlled by Station F at severe risk of revelation and certain termination. The details are as follows:

1. The rise of Shimotsuki has been unprecedented since her takeover of the Arcadia Movement (henceforth the Movement; see Appendix B), following the double murders of the Shimotsuki couple (see Appendix B, and further notes on Anomaly #003, Diana Hunter). Certain indications have been reported from as far back as 20XX – the dissolution of the CIA-backed Elysium Circle, the consolidation of the Arcadia Rights Bill in Neo Domino City and subsequent similar laws introduced throughout China, Korea, Mongolia, India, Peru and other countries, with similarly strict penalties.

2. Quite recently, the Arcadia Act passed on 5 June, to take effect within the next few months in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

3. On 7 July, the death of The Honourable Quinn Harley was reported on various forms of media. 8 July, the London Metropolitan Police reported the suspicion of Ryuusei Fudo, known member of the Japanese Arcadia Movement. Ryuusei Fudo was travelling with his father, Yusei Fudo (Sc. D.) in consultation with Lord Harley concerning funding of the Arcadia Movement, amongst many details.

4. Station Q has uncovered that one Aurora Harrison, affianced to the late Harley, in alliance with Cheryl Madison of the Tower Arcadia Movement (henceforth known as the Tower; see Appendix B) has provided an alibi for Ryuusei Fudo.

5. Setsuka Shimotsuki has made arrangements to enter London, to conference directly with Lord Harley, with the understanding that the Harley family will continue their patronage of the Tower. With the help of discreet publicity, the Movement and the Harley family alike would quiet down an otherwise unremarkable civilian crime in the pursuit of civilian justice.

6. Be that as it may, it is here that Shimotsuki will, we are confident, endeavour to strike a bargain with much of the fringe societies of Her Majesty's capital in an exchange of the Arcadia Movement's unique resources through Cheryl Madison. It is therefore in our best interests that Madison or a similar collaborator of the Crown remain in power.

7. Were this to succeed, the Arcadia Movement would gain more leeway from Her Majesty's Secret Service and potentially manipulate a valued resource of manpower away from the Crown.

Proposed Counter-Operation:

1. It would be in the interests of the world, and this country, were the threat of Shimotsuki neutralised, if not turned to its causes. Failing to do so, discredit would eliminate the threat, but also scatter any sign of the unique human resources available within the Movement and scatter otherwise dangerous entities to the masses. (NB. Assassination is useless, and not worth the cost of replacing personnel. All attempts at long-distance sniping has thus far been proven useless due to horrible weather conditions of Neo Domino at inopportune moments.)

2. We therefore recommend that further, deep-cover investigation and a private audience be made towards this unique individual in the hopes of persuasion, if not assassination.

3. The risks are obvious, and the potential losses are high, yet other operations upon which larger risks had been taken, often for smaller objectives, have had fewer chances of success. The potential gains to be had in control of the United Kingdom's unique human resources far outweigh the risks.

Signed: J

* * *

><p>Appendix A<p>

Name: Setsuka Shimotsuki (written:霜月 雪華)

Aliases: Variations on the words 'Winter' or 'Cold Queen'; universally named as the Cold Queen of the Arcadia Movement.

Origin: Born in Puzzle Hospital, Neo Domino City, Japan. Father Rafael Shimotsuki, known by International Police for crimes of unknown nature, unknown how he eluded capture before the statute of limitations ended upon his case. Mother Seiran Shimotsuki, nee Diana Hunter (Anomaly #003, Internal Revenue Service, US).

First known as the daughter of Anomaly #003 'White Witch' Diana Hunter, targeted by the Elysium Circle; reason being that the rise of the Arcadia Movement constituted a threat to international relations upon a military and civilian sphere due to the unknown abilities of the White Witch. Further investigation of the White Witch Massacre (see Anomaly #003 file) where 200 fringe members of society met their mysterious end by the hand of this woman before police witness proved prophetic, and neutralisation was prescribed henceforth.

The result of the Shimotsuki assassination was the deaths of the Shimotsuki parents and the survival of Shimotsuki. Shimotsuki thus assumed leadership of the Neo Domino Arcadia Movement, flagship of the global Arcadia Movements with branches in nearly all major powers.

Age: 14 (7 November 20XX)

Description (current): Height 155 cm. Weight 43 kg. Complexion very pale. Hair black. Eyes large, slanted and very dark, with whites showing at sides of iris. Rather feminine mouth. Ears small, indicating paternal part-French heritage. Racially, subject is probably a mixture of Caucasian and Mongolian blood with American strains. Dresses well and meticulously, generally in dark school uniforms, knee-high white socks paired with brown brogues and black pleated skirt and black jacket over white shirt. Voice soft and even, cold. Bilingual in English and Japanese, good French – presumably from paternal heritage.

Habits: Unknown. Knowledge unknown, though presumed middle-school education in Japanese education system, top-class grades with teacher's comments usually pertaining to lack of own-age socialisation. Potential sociopathic tendencies.

Known Psychic Duelist (cited last as Class V; see Arcadia Movement) and head of the Arcadia Movement, Neo Domino branch. Powers unknown, though hypothesised to be related to cold. Exact scale and power of abilities unknown, though from cursory comparison to Anomalies #001 and #003, presumably equivalent to a small army.

Always accompanied by at least one guard, butler and employee Iemitsu Nakamura, also a known Psychic Duelist and Secretary of the Arcadia Movement, Neo Domino branch.

Official personal income placed at US$15,000,000.00 (¥15276000000.00). Other unknown sources of income and leverage are not accounted for.

Comment: A formidable and dangerous loose agent of unknown motivations despite youth. Do not hesitate; recommended method of assassination to be sniping from a minimum of 1 kilometre radius behind the head.

Signed: Archivist.

* * *

><p>Appendix B.<p>

Subject: Arcadia Movement

Sources: Own archives, and scanty material made available by colleagues in the intelligence community and public interviews.

The Arcadia Movement (henceforth Arcadia) is thought to be a civil grassroots movement, now non-governmental organisation, originating in Neo Domino city following the collapse of martial law in said city and the subsequent revelation of known Anomalies, beginning with Anomaly #001, 'Black Rose Witch'. Begun by an individual known as Divine Sayer, reform and subsequent rebuilding came from Diana Hunter (Anomaly #003, 'White Witch') and presently, by Setsuka Shimotsuki.

Anomalies address themselves as 'Psychic Duelists', and show an unknown affinity to the card game of Duel Monsters, produced by Industrial Illusions in collaboration with Kaiba Corporation. Their abilities are destructive, widespread, and pose an interesting human resource should any state or non-state party gain exclusive access to the strongest members.

Headquarters: Public branches at all cities (British branch known as The Tower) with flagship headquarters in Daimon Area, Neo Domino City (La Castle), headed by Setsuka Shimotsuki currently. Past leaders: Divine Sayer, Seiran Shimotsuki (Diana Hunter; Anomaly #003)

The background of Arcadia lies in the discrimination of Psychic Duelists, unique individuals known to possess a mysterious power over games, most popularly the card game known as Duel Monsters, produced by Industrial Illusions. Its tasks includes the elimination of all forms of discrimination faced by Psychic Duelists, as well as the assimilation of trained Psychic Duelists into society, though it held more violent ambitions under Divine.

The subsequent, unsolved murder of Divine within Neo Domino Penitential Prison was said to be connected to Hunter, and may indeed have made its name with this successful murder and evasion.

Following the destruction and subsequent assimilation of scattered members of the CIA-backed Elysium Circle, Arcadia has swelled to gain strength. On the surface, Arcadia is led by Iemitsu Nakamura, yet Nakamura is listed as an employee of Shimotsuki. Further testimonies have proven that the true power and the iron fist that governs is Shimotsuki.

As of May 20XX, Arcadia is estimated to have a strength of 150,000 members worldwide, with 7,500 permanent administrative staff scattered in the various main branches and outposts. Each continent is said to have a main branch, with several scattered smaller branches and outposts throughout the continent connected to the main branch. The United Kingdom is host to two branches in London and Edinburgh, with further plans for Wales to have one by July 20XX.

Aside from funding, cooperation and exchange programmes, each main branch/sub-branch/outpost seems to act as an independent cell, roughly in accordance with the following hierarchical structure, with a varying line of succession:

Administration and Finance: exactly as detailed. Can be lumped with Sections 2 and 3 in times of manpower lack.

Public Relations: In charge of presenting a positive public image.

Archives: Holds, coordinates and records the membership of all within a single branch.

Resources: Personnel and material resources. Occasionally lumped with Section 5, can also be divided into a Human Resource branch and an Information Technology branch

Security: the section that initiates violent interventions, serve as the main combat force of these Psychic Duelists, and generally guard other members. Outsourcing of members for security is also carried out through these branches. Former members who turned to private military contracting also cite that illegal activities using such powers are cracked down upon by this branch.

Members of Arcadia generally wear an unknown piece of jewellery or technology – unique design, not to any known jeweller – that serves an identification purpose, amongst many. This piece of carefully calibrated, medical-grade jewellery serves apparently as a 'limiter' on the powers of Psychic Duelists to be better manipulated. It is unknown if the limiters could serve a function of imprisonment.

We believe that the following double agents fell afoul of Arcadia: (For details see Morgue: Section K. The list is too long for any appreciable viewing.)

Conclusion: Every effort should be made to improve our knowledge of this very powerful organisation.

* * *

><p>"Your assignment, Double-O Seven."<p>

James Bond blinked as the file was shoved over the table. It was topped with a glossy photograph, of a girlish figure in black. "Hostage rescue?"

"The opposite," M answered. Everything about the new head of Six seemed to be quiet and efficient, like the previous M had been. "Investigation and possible assassination."

"Into a child," he drawled. "Go on. I'm quite sure this isn't the average case of juvenile delinquency gone overboard."

"The mark is Setsuka Shimotsuki, currently the head of a non-profit organisation called the Arcadia Movement," M listed. "All the pertinent details are in the file. This briefing is a... precautionary measure."

"Precautions." James echoed.

"When you have the deaths of ten SAS members laid at the door of one girl, at the very minimum, precautions are not to be underestimated."

James very carefully did not remark that he was a completely different part of the Royal Armed Forces, thank you very much.

"A bit about the Anomalies," M threw down a file, much thinner than the rest. "We call them Anomalies, but they call themselves Psychic Duelists. Anomalies are super-powered people, let's just stick with that. Some can set things on fire with their minds, some can control the winds, some can hack a computer with their head and have the Internet at their fingertips. They began to congregate decades ago with the rise of Duel Monsters, but it was only with the Arcadia Movement Part II that Six really began to be interested. The most notorious, documented Anomaly #001: Black Rose Witch."

There was grainy video surveillance from what looked like a plaza. As the two men regarded it, a cloaked figure appeared, magenta locks spilling out from beneath the hood. A blank white mask of a face greeted them, before suddenly, winds swirled, billowing her cloak out. Red petals danced in the wind, and the concrete beneath her feet cracked. Before long, the plaza imploded, and the screen fizzed out into a blue screen of death.

"Anomaly #001 was replaced by Anomaly #002: White Witch," M extracted another glossy. "This is the result of the Neo Domino October 15 massacre, or the White Witch Massacre. Two hundred Yakuza versus one woman. She won."

Looking at the sea of charred and blackened flesh and cloth immortalised in paper, James nodded briefly.

"Anomaly #002, Diana Hunter," M commented. "Since the Arcadia Movement registers all of their members by code-names, it is impossible to match up one profile to one identity, despite Q Branch's best efforts. The Anomalies we have on file are the famous, out-and-proud types. Since there is one branch in most major cities, a balance of power can usually be achieved... if it weren't that their loyalties are suspect, at best."

"Six thinks that these..." James paused, "..._uniquely skilled individuals_ could hold a grudge against us?"

"They have good reason to," M grunted. "Of course, they're public, very out about it, and also tend to reinforce their opinions across most political stages where possible. The mark is an individual with incredible political and psychic power at her disposal. We haven't even precluded the possibility of her using mind control yet, because we don't know the full scope of her abilities, or how they work, or their real civilian identities. We can guess most of the permanent staff in every branch, but it's the emergency mobilisations we have to worry about. The unknown fighters."

James nodded, before shaking his head. "So you want me to deal with a baby monster, or a mini-M."

"Mini-M," M snorted. "Mansfield would have been falling all over herself to get her hands on one of the Anomalies before they were swallowed by the Arcadia Movement. As it stands, though, most Anomalies show signs about their mid-teens, and then their parents prefer more... discreet treatment than the NHS. Plus, if some kids voluntarily stay there, they're doing good works too."

"There's no membership list?" James asked.

"Only the famous ones," M nodded. "However, we cannot preclude the existence of a master list, at least of every individual main branch."

"How did a child gain such power, mind if I ask?" James smirked.

"The same way anyone else does," M tacitly replied. "Bribery, murder, and a willingness to tear lives apart. Just in a more socially accepted manner. In removing the Elysium Circle, the mark made herself the prime target of many but also placed these Anomalies under a central hegemony. It is a ticking bomb; there's no way we can shelve something like a violently-inclined ethnic minority away like this, especially not without the inevitable X-Men comparisons."

M paused, collecting himself once more. "The mark, classed tentatively as Anomaly #007, is the maverick leading a potential army of nuclear bombs. That is the nicer wording."

"What's worse?"

M's lips thinned.

"Monsters."

M gave a huff as the agent's resulting expression. "Q will elaborate some more when you're being outfitted, but for now, understand that this will be an incredibly dangerous mission. The little girl managed to do what few adults grow up to do, and wipe out all of her rivals while consolidating her base of power. She is a true monster, born of an equally monstrous woman."

James nodded, though in habit more than in comprehension. In his business, most people tended to be ostracised for one reason or another, after all.

"Now, the mark is arriving in London at 1100 hours for the purpose of investigating a murder, of one Quinn Harley," M continued. "The implicated suspect is one Ryuusei Fudo, who came with his father, Professor Yusei Fudo, on an internship while Fudo Sr. is due to give a keynote speech on the future of energy at University College, London. Fudo Jr is cleared, that much we know, but the implications and the fact that Harley's parents are investors of the UK branch of the Arcadia Movement means that she is coming here. Your mission will be to investigate the mark's purpose beyond what is presented on the surface, their relation to the security of the United Kingdom, and do as you see fit."

"A child would threaten England?" James could not help himself. "God help us."

"Do you find it funny, Double-O Seven?" M just shook his head. "Q will set up a few videos of the mark. Keep in mind that she is a monster in human form, and possibly a threat to the Crown."

"A monster," James echoed, looking at the photograph shot from a telephoto lens from some roof. Black hair hanging loose and straight, a tiny spectre in black lines and pale skin and wintry eyes-

He blinked. If the photograph was correct, then she had been looking at the photographer when it was shot. "Some idiot just managed to give away surveillance. She knows."

"That was the only photograph we managed to get," M commented. "It's outdated, two years ago. We only recovered what you're holding."

"The negatives?"

"No negatives. No camera. No cameraman."

"And the little girl is behind it."

"She is a monster," M bit out. "She is the leader of a worldwide collection of monsters like her. Monsters like her are slain for the sake of the country. If you have a moral qualm, then stuff it and shoot her before she grows and continues."

A monster... James huffed towards the cold, wintry photograph of the target, a single child. One whom the head of MI6 called a monster, an enemy who had to die for the sake of England. Through that cold-blooded decision, one thought echoed, however slight:

_Why?_

* * *

><p>"At least, I imagined that might be the ramp-up," I told the Mind on Air. "Of course, I could be entirely deluded, though the files I extracted from MI:6 do state otherwise. The global intelligence community does tend to hold grudges when I keep disappearing agents. They just stopped when I finally chose to embrace my destiny as Queen."<p>

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Mind on Air demurely answered.

"They must be kicking themselves," I commented. "That night, he chose to break into my room, when I was alone and undressing. Dewloren did not take to him very well, and the feeling was mutual. At the very least, when I was confronted with the Fudo family."

* * *

><p>It might not surprise anyone that I was the main arbitrator of friction between the Arcadia Movements and many sensitive issues. Generally, though, fixed employment, policies adjusted to suit locales and Mother's express instructions that the Movement be kept running without problems meant that I had little work save in my home sphere.<p>

Unfortunately, when a death by accidental causes results and one of the main suspects seemed to be the next strongest Psychic Duelist I knew, that was apparently the impetus needed for the Cold Queen to sally forth from the Castle and towards the matter at hand to be crushed. I should have socked him pre-emptively in the jaw, first for trying to mandate a _family_ reconciliation, second for making me sit through a half-day's flight towards one of the world's busiest airports. Rest assured, I would have left Ryuusei Fudo to his own devices, were it not for that I needed Dr Fudo in my future endeavours, namely, to recover the London Arcadia Movement.

We have booked a suite of rooms at one of London's numerous hotels, not far from the Embankment where the Tower stood. The glass mocked the Houses of Parliament, a monument against the hypocrisy of their ways. Apparently that had been Mother's intention when she designated that spot. It would return to its original purpose when Cheryl Madison was dead.

Since Dr Fudo and he were not expecting us yet, I immediately migrated to my room. Instead of catching a nap as Nakamura-san was wont to believe, I began setting up a temporary base. Or, I was ensuring the safety of my room, as much as I believed part of a ten-storey suite could be secured.

"Dewloren."

Throughout my life as an effect of the power I bore, I learned to ignore temperature fluctuations, secure in the knowledge that the causal factor was personal rather than external. In this case, though, it was he. My primary contractor, and Duel Spirit partner, as much as one like myself could have a partner.

I looked in the mirror as he appeared to all but my Sight; the slitted feline eyes glowed with the whites of the cold, icy power within our contract. Armour clanked to my ears, and a low purr echoed. "_Mistress_."

"I need a squad of Blizzed, Raiho, and you," I pointed to the majordomo of the Ice Barrier clan. "The Blizzed can reconnaissance and surveillance, Raiho is my main legal consultant, and you are a bloody huge tiger when I choose to manifest you. You will be keeping guard over my rooms when I leave to settle that idiot again."

"_We are in a different city once more, then? At least this one is cold._"

"Well, the last one being in Honduras was not my decision," I answered him, deactivating my DuelDisk to take it off and set it down on the bedside table. My shirt quickly joined it, before a cold wind originating in the direction of my table blew it off of the table. "And since when did weather become a causal factor in our agreement, Dewloren?"

"_We are stronger in the cold. The heat did not help."_

"I know." My skirt joined it, followed by my socks – neatly set aside – and underwear. I crossed my arms, looking down at the nubs of flesh puckering out. They were not there yesterday. "Neither do I function well in heat, and yet we have settled that little problem by due necessity. Is my body supposed to do this?"

The tiger beheld my nude form. "_As a feline, I do not believe myself the best consultant. Raiho is male. You will have to consult Greenteeth to find out._"

I cupped the growths. "Puberty. Means I need a new wardrobe. And a razor."

"_Your hair is part of you._"

I glared down at the juncture of my thighs and hips. A bush greeted me. "It needs trimming."

"_As you wish,_" Dewloren growled. "_There is an armed man approaching this building. He has just passed the concierge._"

"British Secret Service," I commented, now opening the heavy suitcase laid at the foot of the bed. I slipped on my underwear. "Might as well give them as excuse to search the rooms. We will be going for dinner. I will be leaving you, and I trust you have a squadron of Shock Troops on hand if apparently one measly mortal agent is more than your match. Try not to eat him before I get back."

Nakamura-san was neatly dressed in a change of clothes when I stepped out of my room, and I found James half-asleep in his own. I made a persuasive noise, pressing him towards the door with Nakamura-san following us. It was at the restaurant that I found Dr Fudo and the eternal cause of my ire, Ryuusei Fudo.

"Good evening, Setsuka." Dr Fudo greeted.

"Shimotsuki," his son with Aki Izayoi answered.

"Good evening," I answered, taking my seat at the round table. Almost as expected, a server appeared at Nakamura-san's elbow.

"Would sir like to order the appetiser?"

Nakamura-san ordered the Continental. I tipped the salmon, and translated the menu for James before telling the server to bring a steak and fries. Both men of the Fudo waited for him to leave before Dr Fudo sighed. "Apologies you had to come here."

"Oh, I predicted that something might happen," I glossed over. Truthfully, I had misgivings of Ryuusei Fudo, because people were attracted to him and his personality like moths to a flame, and they predictably burned out when he turned his attention to them. "_Je ne sais quoi_, he makes my life interesting."

"Wasn't my option," Ryuusei answered.

"Yes, though I have to renegotiate with Lord Harley now," I commented. "And find a new archivist. Codename Dawn and codename MindEye are clearly unreliable now, certainly. We'll have to kick some heads in."

"Please don't talk about that here," Dr Fudo precautioned. "I am very thankful that you took the time to settle our case, nevertheless."

"There was never any danger to Ryuusei, Doctor," I answered honestly. If there was a man who truly deserved an honest answer, it was Yusei Fudo.

"So I was meant to be the fall guy?" Ryuusei asked once the courses were set and we started.

"That never occurred to them," I answered. "Their plans was more of an accident, hypnotising the gardener with a history of substance abuse to target codename Harlequin. That you interrupted them but was too late to stop Harlequin from dying, though certain evidence and codename Dawn's infatuation towards you that you informed me of in your report was enlightening. I will settle business with the traitor come the next day."

"What will happen?" Dr Fudo asked.

I shrugged.

He nodded, getting the meaning. "Is there any other reasonable option?"

"Cheryl Madison will sell out the London Arcadia Movement in her quest for power," I commented. "If there are dealings to be struck, it shall be on our terms, decided with contracts and promises that can be kept. She will _not_ barter the members of England's Arcadia while I can help it."

Dr Fudo nodded, not happily but accepting. "Do you... need help?"

I stiffened as I felt a rough, callused palm on my thigh. James's hat bobbed.

"Crux and I will deal," I answered. "Though I would appreciate if you would handle the electronic security."

Ryuusei frowned, but nodded. "I will. What do you have in mind?"

"Tomorrow, sunset," I nodded. "Stage a takeover. Find Harrison and Madison. Make them give up, or finish them. Service finished."

"It's a very simple plan," Dr Fudo commented.

"No plan survives first contact," I replied. "Crux and I will find a way. I will simply need help to cover the evidence."

Almost as one, the Fudo men flinched; they have no stomach today.

I smiled as my deck gave off a wave of cold, halfway through the coleslaw on my plate. The agent, then. "I'm sorry, I forgot something in my room."

I left the restaurant, taking care not to walk too quickly before I reached the lift and pressed for my floor. The doors rolled open and I walked out, my footsteps muffled. Overhead, a closed-circuit camera clicked shut, its electronics destroyed in a burst of cold.

I opened the door with my key card, stepping out of my shoes off as I entered. I padded through the main sitting room and towards my room, where I found a blond man with blue eyes, attempting to reach a fallen gun despite Dewloren's maw around the nape of his neck. He was dressed very well; quite neatly.

"_Bonsoir, monsieur,_" I faked. "_Puis-je vous aider?_"

* * *

><p>This time around, the alarm that rung was the emergency beacon, signalling the need for the Queen to take to the field.<p>

I sighed, rising once more. "Unto tomorrow?"

"As Your Majesty wishes. Good day, ma'am."

I nodded, turning to leave. "Good day, Mind on Air."

I marched out, a cloak of furs wrapping around me. By my feet, Dewloren padded slowly as we advanced further away from the office of the Mind on Air and towards the main gates of Lia Fáil. "Skirmishes along the Six Samurai borders. The Shogun should be ready to negotiate in a matter of days."

"Very well," I agreed. "Send Gantala with the casualties to the Winter Medical Corps. I shall ensure that at the very least, they will accept Winter rule."

"And I, Your Majesty?"

I stared down towards the large feline. "You will be my mount, feline. It seems all you are good for, these days."

"I am Winter's majordomo," Dewloren inclined his head. "If it means that you ride me, Your Majesty, it is to ensure Winter's will."

"It is all about Winter to you," I reflected. "I should never have trusted you, Dewloren. Not after London."

Cold greeted us as Winter's Queen and majordomo stepped from the main gates, a wind howling, barrelling down from the Ice Barrier Mountains and within the heat of battle, where half of the field froze over and snow began to fall in place of rain, and a crown of white thorns formed upon the brow of the newly arrived goddess of death herself with her mount at her feet, a warrior and prince of the chief clan that served Winter.

At least, that is the way in the imaginary world, the world of Duel Spirits.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Critique, s'il vous plaît!<strong>_


	3. II: Blizzard Vision

_**Tactical Espionage Expert**_

* * *

><p><strong>II: Blizzard Vision<strong>

"Apologies," I began, writing behind a portable desk of white wood, safely wrapped in my bed. "It seems like Michiru is nagging at me to take a break. Gantala has placed me on bed rest, for some inexplicable reason. It's quite unreasonable."

From her expression, the Mind on Air looked as though she might have agreed with his assessment. "It is not good for Winter's Queen to overwork herself."

"Winter's Queen..." I reflected. "I'm not made of glass."

"It is your rule that matters, Your Majesty," she answered. "Your origins... are the past, along with your story."

"My story..." I teased. "Where were we?"

"The agent that Prince Dewloren caught."

"Oh, yes. The agent in my bedroom."

* * *

><p>Preliminary Report of First Contact with Shimotsuki Setsuka (Anomaly #007)<p>

Written on orders of M, by Agent 007, dated 9 July 20XX

Since there is no protocol of what to do when [redacted] and it's all going to be redacted either way, I shall stick merely to a narrative.

Whatever I was briefed upon, the abilities of such Anomalies did not include the ability to smuggle armoured tigers into their rooms, a fact the how of which [redacted] is currently researching.

I had purchased ingress into the suite rooms at the [redacted] that Anomaly #007 was staying at with her posse. In one room I found a tiger that jumped at me. A Walther PPK handgun proved inefficient to take down the tiger – which was wearing blue armour – jumped me. How the animal escaped or got into the room without anyone noticing I did not know or care, except that the animal managed to trap me. Within approximately ten minutes, my presence was discovered by the mark.

My impression of the girl was [redacted]. However, instead of calling security, she was humming a _comptine_, the first stanza of "_Au clair de la lune_".

(When the head of the SIS read this, he picked up the phone immediately. "Agent Bond, what is this?" He repeated the series of words.

"'Rhyme' and 'By the light of the moon', sir."

"This is not the European Union, man. Try to stick to plain English, or attach a crib.")

She greeted me instead of caring about the animal or my presence in her room before turning her attention towards interrogation or an attempt thereof.

We thus began a conversation of astounding and revelatory measures, right after she calmly dialled a room number (see transcription). Directly after, the [redacted] had security expel me from the premises on possible charges of paedophilia, which brought the attention of Technical Services Station towards the removal of a field agent from the attention of the London Metropolitan Police's vice division.

It is currently unknown how much information she has gotten, or the extent of her information at present, or her presentation of midnight as a rendezvous with the heads of Six. It is clear, though, that she is a security risk no matter the circumstances of our meeting. Immediate termination is recommended.

Transcription of Earpiece, Station Q*  
>Time and Date: 19:58:08, 97/20XX  
>*Given the straightforward nature of the conversation, all translations have been provided via Google Translate. This is Q-Branch, not Duolingo.<p>

SS: _Bonsoir, monsieur_. _Puis-je vous aider? _(Good evening, mister. How may I help you?)

007: _Vous pouvez dire à votre tigre de me lâcher, je vous remercie._(You can tell your tiger to get off me, I thank you.)

SS: _Pourquoi? Vous avez cassé dans ma suite d'abord. Au moins, mon associe n'a pas vous trouver. Il n'est pas enclin à être gentil._ (Why? You broke into my suite in the first place. At least my associate did not find you. He is not inclined to be nice.)

007: _Vous êtes très calme en face d'un voleur armé, Mademoiselle._ (You are very calm in confronting an armed robber, Miss.)

SS: _Vous n'êtes pas un voleur armé ordinaire, M. agent provocateur. Vous êtes venu sur les commandes._ (You are no ordinary armed robber, Mr Inciting Agent. You came here on orders.)

007: …

SS: _Personne mais vous-même vous trahis. Cela, et les yeux j'ai autour de cet hôtel, si vous demandiez._ (No one but yourself betrayed you. That, and the eyes I have around this hotel, if you were asking.)

007: _Je n'ai pas de poser_. (I did not ask.)

SS: _Je n'ai pas répondu à toute question que vous avez posée, M. Bond_. (I did not answer any question you asked, Mr Bond.)

007: _Je ne vous donne pas mon nom._ (I did not give you my name.)

SS: _Non, vous ne l'avez pas._ _Est-ce que vous avez réalisé ? Ah, non._ (No, you didn't. Have you realised? Ah, no.)

007: _vous répondez à mes pensées._ (You're answering my thoughts.)

SS: _Vous avez un visage de poker unique, M. Bond. Vos maîtres vous averti, je suis un monstre. Vous n'avez pas les croire._ (You have a unique poker face, Mr Bond. Your masters have warned you, I am a monster. You did not believe them.)

(There is an interruption; doors opening, a low growl, and then a stray curse from Bond, who is apparently trying to reach for her. More scuffles, and then, very low:)

SS: _Retour, M. Bond. Envoyez-leur mes salutations. Demain soir, à minuit, ils ont rendez-vous avec moi._ (Go back, Mr Bond. Tomorrow night, at midnight, they have an appointment with me.)

* * *

><p>That very same night, I threw the traitors and their SAS help out of the Tower.<p>

It was a risk, I knew; releasing the agent unlike the many assassins beforehand. He and his ilk were not new; I could sense a fellow orphan; forever hungry to belong. It did not take a Mind on Air to realise that. Either way, it still left me with a small window of opportunity to ensure the Tower's standing. The sooner I could do it, the sooner I could turn my entire efforts towards ensuring that this did not repeat itself.

Cheryl Madison and Aurora Harrison were dead women.

There was a sea fog drifting about the Tower when I arrived there, Nakamura-san and James following behind me like the wings of some shadowy hawk. Each of us wore an earpiece connected to Regulus. Yusei Fudo had no idea of the true investment of my work, and neither did his son. It was better this way.

"Okay, I'm going to finish setting up the back-door prep before I close the network," Regulus told me. "Just plug the USB in, and the program would execute itself from my end. It's more complicated than that, but I don't think you'd like the full explanation."

"I trust that you will do what is necessary," I demurred. He knew as well as I did that my continued living was the only thing keeping those he loved from the Arcadia Movement. He was not the brother of my student; it was the only way I could keep a Psychic equal to myself under control.

"Do we have a plan?" James drawled.

"You will surround the Tower to prevent escape," I studied the fifteen-storey building, calculating how I would storm it within and hide from the CCTV system. "It will take twenty minutes for the fire brigade to come. In that time, Nakamura-san and I will remove the twenty armed soldiers within and confront Madison. Harrison is a pawn in all of this, but she is secured only by obligation. With the news that I am coming, she will run, which is your role to prevent that, Crux. Bushido, your first priority is the twenty soldiers. Initiate compulsory evacuation."

"Understood."

I walked in with Nakamura-san trailing behind.

A second after I checked my cellphone, a glimpse of orange signalled that the Tower was isolated from land. Nakamura-san nodded and melted back, my companions told me.

I inhaled through my nose, breathing in the scent of office space – a cleaning reagent with a scent of orange, mint, toner and paper – and then I headed down towards the main foyer. Around the foyer, floors and stairs rose like the inside of a school, open corridors placed with bastions of painted concrete and glass between them. Completely open, the office space.

I found a stairway, consulted the attached floor plan and began climbing. There was no rush, not at all-

A card met the armed soldier, who blinked before he disappeared from my sight and presumably in wherever he was supposed to be. I retrieved the card, dusting it away as the platform winked out of existence, and felt for my discreet weapons. I had a scar on my arm when one of the Elysians had set up a Skill Drain. I'd stabbed him in the eye with a screwdriver.

I was reminded of the other reason to carry an armed weapon when one of them jumped me from behind. Despite what I liked to convince most people, a Psychic Duelist is as human as anyone when faced with a garrotte on the throat, and I had faced a fair number of attacks from behind. My power flared, and I froze the man's fingers before I kicked back, around the estimated region. A catch of breath before I pushed back, allowing the man to drop from the sudden stop of blood flow from solid freezing.

The hands should be removed later, I thought as I stepped over him and continued, freezing his legs and then his heart for good measure. I was slipping in control.

Two more men vanished, consumed by the Compulsory Evacuation Device before I found the main office. I would have liked to say that it was sumptuously decorated, however my estimation had rapidly dropped at the mess of papers over the upended desk. The security console itself had been scattered, keys and buttons lying on an ill-maintained carpet and surrounding the one who had been leading the British Arcadia Movement.

Green hair hung matted and unkempt from twin braids; clearly she had not been keeping up on her beauty regimen. Still in a white Obelisk Blue uniform complete with calf-high boots, Cheryl Madison sneered as she saw me. "_You_."

"MindEye, I suppose this is your doing," I commented. "I have a lot to clean up, especially since Aurora Harrison's fiancé was killed. You do realise that it took ten minutes for me to know that Quinn Harley was manipulated into suicide? A modus operandi you have established. Six known 'suicides' in St Mary's Orphanage for Lost Children before you entered the Tower, but branching out into assassination?"

"Removal," Cheryl snarled. "Why, pissed off 'cause I took your pawn? You have millions of them."

"And you intend to trade about two thousand of them for power," I stated. "They are not my pawns, under my direct control."

"I know what you are," she hissed, eyes glowing. "Just die, won't you? You're a monster who's going to make the Arcadia Movement the enemy of all humanity."

"You will, Madison, not I," I retorted. "No military will have access to a Psychic Duelist on their terms, only on ours."

"Very nice of you," Cheryl nodded, crossing her arms. "'Course, irrelevant. Weak little guessers who can't even Duel their way out of a paper bag... not proper monsters like you and I, right? They call us Anomalies, you know, in the SAS. I'm Anomaly #006. Harrison was #005. Quinn was selling us out, so I... took care of it. Isn't that nice of me? Shouldn't you bow in gratitude, like all Japs do?"

"I'm not fully Japanese, apologies," I acknowledged. "But the murder of Harley was less about him selling us out and more about seizing power over the British Arcadia Movement. Maybe you'd like the Stone Frigate in Edinburgh as well, but that is unlikely."

Footsteps behind me, and Cheryl smirked. "Bye bye, princess."

Machine gun fire was punishing, even when one is on the receiving end of it. The short bursts impacted upon the glowing shield of Mirror Force, and I flinched at the rebound of sound and projectile. At the same time, Cheryl had chosen that time to stare as, instead of being riddled over, I survived.

I reserved one bullet, redirected to hit her in the leg, and she fell to land on the carpet. A solid cloud of dust swallowed her form as I unfolded my DuelDisk, watching the blood flow from her veins.

"We can do this two ways," I informed her as a conqueror to the imprisoned. "I can end you, right here and now. Or we can Duel, as Duelists."

She looked surprised, but it was quickly swallowed. "Very confident in your powers, then?"

"The issue should be, are you?" I asked. "Or are you a _bitch_ that has been neutered when all other pawns in the vicinity have been removed?"

Her DuelDisk flared open. "Fine."

I will not bore you with the relevant details. Suffice it to say that, during the course of the Duel, destruction of one couch, the desk, the security console and quite a few windows, as well as the water and the central heating were disrupted within that office of the Arcadia Movement, calculating to within twenty thousand pounds sterling. That I calculated all of this in the course of that Duel within three turns was because all of the destruction was mine, and because she and her Alien monsters never laid a finger on me, especially as I called upon that reservoir of power within.

I know what it is now; Winter has been supplanting my own gifts with power for far too long. The urge to do horrible and nasty things dwells in us all; I am different only in that I have the power to wreck my vengeance and the will to do so, in the surety of never regretting. I will never regret now, because I am Winter, and a nation can not regret as much as an individual can, with long memories and ephemeral remembrances where convenient.

I still remember her fear, the closeness of two people, once upon a time, people labelled monsters, and I could still feel her terror as the chains of fate snapped close and hard with my dictation. The very fact that the Cold Queen, who had blessed however indirectly, was now taking it away was enough to frighten her.

She cried when it was done, as much as one in catatonia could.

I approached the security console, depressing the USB drive within. There were LEDs that flickered, and slowly, the office's light flickered on upon my wreckage. It was done; I retrieved the drive and decided to leave.

That _bugger_ then shot me.

* * *

><p>The Mind on Air paused. "The bugger?"<p>

"Mr Bond," I clarified. "He was a very good agent, of course. Caught me off-guard, the shot to my chest. I would have bled out and died without advance notice. As it were..."

* * *

><p>Dropping behind the desk narrowly saved my spine from snapping. That was a huge-calibre bullet, from the heavy <em>thunk<em> it made. Perhaps even steel-tipped. It would have ripped me apart instead of causing fragmentation damage.

I drew the knife. Soft footsteps; trained to kill. Aiming for the direct line of sight.

I lunged out, finding a pair of blue eyes before I brandished a knife at his face. He reared back, and then I did what any girl would do; knee in the groin followed by running out of the office quickly, zig-zagging past another bullet. I crashed a fire extinguisher on the way, retrieving the heavy canister to break open via quick-freezing, the dense powder spilled out from the pressure, shrouding the whole area in fog. The field had changed, the cold of my domain brought on by fear and an open window, explaining how, somehow, the agent had gotten in. How he would get out, somehow, I had no explicable idea _how_.

I then found the blunt axe with the extinguisher box, and threw it as Papa had taught me years ago. It hit, with a shout; what, I never knew, since I was running until I caught up with Nakamura-san and we left. We picked up on our way a rather shame-faced James following behind with a black eye but with Aurora Harrison slung over his shoulder.

I got my phone, dialling a number. It picked up on the first ring, and a panting, nervous tone greeted me.

"Quartermaster." I said. "We won."

It was a success, sacking the Tower, and that was the crux. The next steps would be harder to predict and decide. It was fine, all fine as long as it played out.

* * *

><p>"I later found out that Madison had ordered the building emptied in an attempt to give the SAS men space without witnesses," I commented as the alarm went off. "It explained a few things, including why Captain and Quartermaster could escape. Next time, then?"<p>

"Your Majesty." The Mind on Air nodded, rising to leave after I had left.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Critique, s'il vous plaît!<strong>_


	4. III: Evolutionary Singularity

_**Tactical**_

* * *

><p><strong>III: Evolutionary Singularity<strong>

I barely lifted my head as she entered the room. The Mind on Air waited before my desk, hardly daring to take a seat.

"Good afternoon," I wondered, peering out at the pane of frost-covered glass that was a window, trying to determine if day had passed over Lia Fáil yet. I swept the letters of condolences aside – they were apparently wildly popular, families actually more comforted that the Winter Queen took an active care into the comfort of those whose family had fallen in battle with her flag – and nodded. "Pray be seated. Remind me, how many sessions did Gantala contract you for? Six?"

"Yes," the Mind on Air nodded. "I- His Excellency regards that the health of Your Majesty is... rather more frail. He believes it to be an ailment of the mind. If you would recall, I had explained that a certain event in your formative years could reveal some aspect of the frailty that led you to deny the power of Winter until the cusp of adulthood."

"So weakness is a sin?" I reflected. "Then what should powerlessness be, Mind on Air?"

"I do not know, ma'am,"

"Duly noted," I replied. "You remind me of the little Quartermaster. Like an owl."

"Of your... Arcadia Movement?"

"No, no. Of MI6."

* * *

><p>Station Q – Q-Branch, Technical Services Station,<br>After-Action Report

Aside from how an agent of the [redacted] was apparently outsmarted by virtue of a fire extinguisher and an axe thrown at his head on top of reckless endangerment by the mark, we are no closer to unravelling the mark. Also, two SAS men and a still-breathing though neutralised Anomaly #005 and Anomaly #006 turned in at London Metropolitan has the potential to escalate matters of the Arcadia Movement in relation to the United Kingdom.

Analysis of state of #005 and #006 in prison via surveillance has revealed a neutralisation of anomalous characteristics, hypothesising that Anomaly #001 may have undergone the same procedure to disappear, but passed on anomalous characteristics to offspring. It suggests a genetic basis towards the existence of Anomalies. Such a procedure, being safe enough to be performed on field, and yet pause the expression of anomalous characteristics but not to prevent its passage via gametic material, is unheard of and unknown as yet.

Furthermore, we have revealed the prowess of Anomaly #007. #007 is, as assessed by Agent 007, used to fighting in high-risk situations with and without the use of anomalous characteristics, with most of her diversions based upon the assumption of anomalous characteristics ('conjuring shields', 'freezing carbon dioxide' etc.). When pressed, Anomaly #007 also demonstrates singular aim with axe-throwing and diversion, as well as having shown to be armed with a large knife of an estimated ten inches. Whether she was armed with more, Agent 007 had been unable to reveal, though it is assumed that she may have been further armed with a form of device that analysis revealed as a custom-built KaibaCorp DuelDisk. What role this DuelDisk may play has yet to be determined without retrieval of the corrupted tapes that Anomaly #007 had erased. However, we have uncovered an important salient point:

The link between the [redacted] family and the Arcadia Movement has been discovered, to continue. [redacted] has been revealed to hold maternal DNA from Anomaly #001 ('Black Rose Witch'), From the granted maternal DNA link, it can be proven that the [redacted], and currently not within British territory, may be #001, assumed neutralised by the same procedure of #005 and #006. [redacted] has been entered as Anomaly #009, and the second second-generation Anomaly revealed in the world after #007, and links to #007 after Anomaly #008.

Signed,  
>Q<p>

* * *

><p>Memo to all pertinent branches, Secret Intelligence Service (MI6):<br>Security alert on #007 has been raised upon consideration of AAR from both Agent and Quartermaster. Preparations for 'appointment' at 10-11 July at 0000 hours to be investigated with all due haste.  
>– M<p>

* * *

><p>The chief issue of getting Psychics hired was finding the appropriate employers. The Arcadia Movement had the pick of the litter, though there was always the option of a company finding their own pet Psychic. The Movement tended to make those people's lives that little bit harder. Either way, the Arcadia Movement regularly flouted labour laws in one form or another, so having labour listed as a concern with relaxed regulations was always an essential chapter of any Arcadia Rights Bill.<p>

The fact that the Movement could provide services exclusively in the form of monsters helps tremendously.

This matter was always a tremendous concern, and it was with Jordan Lee, or the newly reinstated Quartermaster, that I had made preparations for the future. The Tower post-Madison was going to have to renegotiate the private contracts broken. To rearrange another contract with the British Government. There were contracts to be made and heads to kick in.

My morning was productive, though. I had appointments with the top dealers that were encroaching on the street the Tower was on by its east side. I made appointments with those officials from the City of London directly after that, and ensured that both parties saw each other. There was no difference between them to me, and that message was made very clear.

"You're an overbearing autocrat," James sighed once both appointments had been concluded and we were doing a tour of the Tower. Four floors of archives, research, infirmary, human resources, security, and general management that led to the dormitory floors. There was more, but frankly you don't need to know the full layout of the building to understand what I was getting at.

"I do not deny that," I agreed. Most work was done via informal communication, I knew; hence we managed something like horizontal integration with a lot of mess. The only criterion was that the monopoly of violence was held at bay.

"Have you thought that sometimes you get more flies with honey than vinegar?" James asked.

"Only if you assume that the flies don't automatically take your honey as vinegar," I answered. "You know that, as the head of the Oceanic Arcadia Movement. Semaphore is mainly there to... smooth over the process."

"MacKinnon's a good guy," James agreed. "Bit bookish, but I guess that's why the SASR wants him. I just don't feel too good about putting Psychics anywhere near a government facility."

"We are not separate from ordinary people," I reminded him. "My parents died to set up the Arcadia Movement to what it is. Segregation is not the answer to anything, especially not to an accident of birth. If we have special skills, why not sell them to the highest bidder? On our own conditions, of course."

"Until they arrest us under whatever terror act of the day," James muttered.

"Until that, or they pass an Arcadia act, or until I have enough leverage to topple a small country and move all Psychics there," I joked.

James paused.

"It was a joke."

"...I can't ever tell if you're joking or being serious," James muttered, having caught up as I walked ahead of him. "You're pretty no matter what you're doing."

"Is that so. Do you tell every girl that?"

"Only the nice ones."

"I know people who would disagree with you." Thousands, perhaps. A human rights commission once tried to run a survey on the Arcadia Movement's impact on families once. Idiots who stick children to a normal family structure without consideration to economics and social sciences were idiots, no matter what. "To them I am a monster."

"You are a monster for us," James told me. "So that none of the other heads ever need to kill... even though amongst us."

"Cheryl Madison lived. So did Aurora Harrison."

"Not as Arcadians, and everyone probably knows it by now," James pondered. "I think... Babel Tower and the Frigate might have words when you get back."

"They already do. It flooded my email in-box this morning." I dismissed. "But they know that right now, what is needed is order and norms. Time is not something a single Psychic can force, nor is acclimatisation. Safety, though. To ensure long-term, regular, structural help, a monster must continue to protect the castle."

"You are not alone," James told me, in that honest, earnest fashion only he could. He had rushed up to face me, his dark eyes glimmering. "I will help."

"I am a tyrant out of necessity, James. I will not allow you to wash your hands in blood for the sake of my moral peace," I answered. "I will not allow anyone to cast aspersions on any Arcadia Movement, as long as I am here. You are already helping, by bringing the Oceanic Movement that step closer. There is no need for another monster. Thank you, all the same."

"I am not Orion Hunter."

I stopped walking at the mention of _his_ name. "No, you are not. He is gone."

"We all know you beat him," James rebutted. "But you do know that, with the Madame gone- Goldenrod would have been-"

"He left," I shortly replied. "Of his own choice. That he disappeared at this juncture means that he has lost all moral right towards how the Movement is run."

"Yeah, about that... you didn't really give him much of a choice," James hesitated. "But what do I know? I'm just the guy you threw into leadership one day."

I felt my shoulders tense. "You would not have been if Goldenrod had taken over. None of us would have made it away from the Elysium Circle and their hands in the shadows."

"You're not exactly reassuring me that... you're completely there," James pondered.

I think I liked him for that exact reason; while he could criticise my policies and attitudes, he took care not to do so publicly. I saw the Arcadia Movement and its day-to-day running as an obligation, one that James made me want to try harder at it. Perhaps I am foolish to pay heed to him, but James is actually a good person, if rather... innocent.

"I had no idea that you needed to be reassured," I informed him.

Though James was a year older than I was, I had an intellect to spare and the willingness to use all the resources at my disposal. He knew very well what I was capable of. His jaw set. "You drove away your own cousin, and proceeded to have him declared dead later. I think I can be forgiven if I say that a lot of Arcadians are looking funny at you for that."

I had expected something along that reaction the moment my first cousin left Neo Domino. I had no idea that those expectations reached across the Pacific Ocean.

"Everyone, including Quartermaster, knows that this may well be your last responsibility before you can be impeached," James murmured, shaking his head. "I shouldn't even be telling you this."

"You are telling me this so that I know the stakes," I murmured in realisation. "So that I don't lose sight of the important things."

"Installing Quartermaster and ensuring that the European Arcadia Movement is back on track is all well and good," James agreed. "Even I know that, and I'm an idiot. But we're going to have to stuff the monster back into the box, you know. I'll be waiting for that day."

Monsters do not disappear so easily. Neither does the name of Setsuka Shimotsuki, the Cold Queen, Polaris, the monster of the Arcadia Movement. There was no way for a monster to temporarily disappear; only permanently. The moment the Movement was on track, every part of the Arcadia Movement to make some progress, I was going to be its nightmare. I was going to haunt the Arcadia Movement with the possibilities, so horrific that no one would ever question again the necessity of Psychic Duelists. That monsters are also needed to fight monsters.

"You don't have to wait," I said the closest thing to an actual confession and real human gratitude I could find in myself, away from the horrible deep hole of something that I lost in an agreement with Dewloren. "But thank you. Thank you anyway."

I wish I could fast-forward to comment that nothing significant happened between the afternoon and evening, that I whiled the hours leading up to the opening of the Tower in mindless drivel, but everything had a purpose; I had plotted how to reach the pertinent agents, I had thought of my evening dress, and I had considered the possibility of my cousin's presence in town, all three in no particular order of priority. Well, perhaps a reflection on how I seemed to have a type for dark-haired men, but that was irrelevant to the current situation at hand.

The rest of my thought processes from afternoon to the evening party were nothing outstanding. Except that during the evening party later, the Security team – none of them contracted to military service yet, at least – informed Quartermaster and I of the blond agent they kept rejecting from the closed party, until he came in on the arm of a female attaché. I tracked down the attaché and hinted, through an interpreter, that I was going to expose her company's unethical financial practices for the fiscal year to HM Inland Revenue if the gigolo was not thrown out immediately. Not in so many words. At least, I did not openly call the secret agent man a gigolo.

"_Pierrot répondit: À minuit, Monsieur,_" I commented when Agent Bond was dragged out again by a security guard in blue. I frowned as I turned away, still confused before I realised the implication of recognising a security guard.

* * *

><p>"So you see," I told the stunned Mind on Air, toying with the letter-opener in my hands.<p>

Shock Troops had surrounded us with spears all pointed at the traitor. "I am intimate with familial treason. Particularly with the people who are supposed to serve the Silver Throne. It would take a lot more than one worm to cleave out the rest of my story."

"You are worse than all of them combined," the Mind on Air spat, realising her predicament.

"Sentiment, as many clever men comment, is a chemical defect found on the losing side," I answered. "I supposed here, my medical treatment is cut short. Now, servitors of Winter... Off with her head."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Critique, s'il vous plaît!<strong>_


	5. IV: Berserk Scales

_**Tactical Espionage Expert**_

* * *

><p><strong>IV: Berserk Scales<strong>

Anomaly: #009

Name: Orion Hunter

Aliases: None

Origin: Born in Kansas City, MI, USA, to a single mother. Following the death of his mother to unknown causes, #009 entered the foster care system, by which he was discovered by his paternal aunt Diana Hunter (Anomaly #003) and adopted to be taken to Neo Domino City, Japan. Educated at Domino Elementary and Middle School, spent upper-secondary education at Central Duel Academia, a privately-run establishment set up by Kaiba Corporation.

Left before graduation, but is a self-taught polymath tested to hold working cognitive skill and an IQ of 150.

Age: 22 (DOB: 28 Oct 20XX)

Habits: Clubbing.

* * *

><p>Due to our having ordered the last therapist's execution, we are reduced to scribbling my opinions upon this notebook, to be erased at a later date. Pasted is the temporary dossier the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) had cobbled on our cousin before their release from the MI6 archives.<p>

He is an _idiot_, to have rescued Agent 007 from being thrown out, and he should never have involved himself into the notice of any intelligence agency. The fact that we hold his dossier was something that should never have happened, if only he were slightly more paranoid. We have a strong suspicion that he was being facetious.

We had excused ourselves from the party following our discovery of their presence, and Orion-niisan had escaped. At that time, upon reflection, we should have turned back, into the relative safety of the Tower. However, we advanced, taking to the walls to increase our search and avoid the CCTV system.

We found them in a rank-smelling, cobble-stoned, suspiciously stained alleyway. Agent 007 had drawn his gun and aimed it at Orion-niisan. The blond agent looked rather angry, in a fashion that severely reminded me of Papa. Papa could wield an axe to break a rather solid door in one swing.

Orion-niisan had his DuelDisk out, but I knew that, even against a gun, he would be reluctant to use any power. His dark hair hung matted over one side of his face, the sole remaining eye hardly bothering to check the roof. We was positioned adequately to overhear them.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"To help you," Orion-niisan replied.

There was the report of a silenced gun, more a pop than a car backfiring. Orion-niisan remained very still.

"Don't move your hands," Agent 007 warned. "You aren't out to rescue people for free, are you?"

"Security would throw you into the Thames once you flouted the three-times rule," Orion-niisan replied, still standing very still. Leave already, _idiot_. "If you pulled that trick, my cousin would have frozen your organs into dust and left you without a heart."

"I must have left my heart at home, because I fail to sympathise." A distant click. "Your cousin?"

"Setsuka," he rasped, the name accented with a touch of our last home. "Setsuka Shimotsuki."

"Your name?"

"Orion Hunter."

A pause, during which our presence must have shorted out the earpiece, for then the agent stilled. We chose to drop from before he looked up and started firing. Landing was hard for us, the cobbled ground not suitable for rough activity of any sort, but we managed.

"Four storeys," the agent remarked, right before we threw the card at his feet. "A card?"

"Ice," we told him, clearly. "Block."

Blue eyes faced me before he was flash-frozen.

With that complete, we rounded on Orion-niisan, and something in my expression had him up in arms. "What?"

"Move," we snarled, the two of us walking away from the dangerous assassin. "Why have you intervened? He is an agent of the British government."

"There's no way I could have let you kill another-"

"Then you should have killed him yourself," we had answered.

"This is not the solution," Orion-niisan protested.

"Incorrect. It is not the nicest solution. It is not the only solution. It is, however, the most expedient solution. Unfortunately, MI6 already has your name, so I suppose there is nothing left to be done. I will erase your records, and you will get out of my sight immediately."

"Is that any way to-"

"You lost any right to call yourself my elder the day you left," we hissed before we turned back, leaving Orion-niisan to walk away.

The Ice Block had begun to disintegrate when we returned, so we waited until hypothermia was beaten to bay and Agent 007 rounded on me.

"_Je présume que vous êtes l'escorte,_" I began. "_Pour notre rendez-vous, Monsieur_."

"_... vous êtes sérieux._"

"_Oui. Il fait un tel changement de quand je ne suis pas,_" we agreed. "_Si vous souhaitez montrer le chemin._"

"_Alors qu'est-ce m'empêcher de vous tirer, petite fille?_"

"_Voulez-vous parier sur qui?_" We paused for effect.

"_J'ai une grande confiance dans l'efficacité de cette arme._"

"_Moi aussi. Quand le canon n'est pas déformé par le gel, j'ai une grande confiance dans la puissance de feu supérieure._"

He drew back. "You," he huffed, "are a bitch."

This time, we allowed for a measure of time to type a text message, before we reminded him. "_Le rendez-vous, Monsieur ?_"

"We'll need an interpreter," he commented.

"No need. If I failed to return by a set time, Nakamura-san would be rather angry."

He stopped to look back at me with complete exasperation. "Your guardian's anger should be the least of your problems. You can speak _English_."

"All advantages to be derived can and should be derived," I replied. "Until they are not. Right now it is not beneficial for the Secret Intelligence Service to underestimate me, or to hide that I know three languages. Somewhat."

"Most guardians would have tossed you out on your ear," he commented.

"Like yours did?"

The secret agent fell silent.

"I'm not reading your mind currently. There is a saying... it takes one to know one."

A black car rolled up, and he just nodded. "Get in."

"We could be kidnapped."

"You're being voluntarily kidnapped by MI6 right now."

"You could be kidnapped, and I could be kidnapped with you."

A ghost of something passed his face. "It's safe."

"For you or for me?"

"For either of us."

"So who is the unsafe one here? You or I?"

He opened the door.

I got in. He closed the door, went to the next, and got in from the opposite side. The car took off when he closed the door. Neither of us quite bothered with seatbelts, come to think of it. How very remiss of us.

"You asked an interesting question," the man pondered. "None of them are my identity."

"Why would I need to know your identity?"

"Might be nice to know the face that pulled the trigger."

We smiled, not that he could see it. "Again. Why would I need to know my killer? He would strike from behind, and I would never see it coming." Softly, we added, "I hope I never see it coming."

"Why not?"

"I would rather not have to murder my own killer. It would have been quite merciful. You will not be the one to kill me, Monsieur."

"You speak a lot for a child."

"I have earned that right."

"War?" He laughed, and a frisson of sadism seemed to follow him. "Your country can't even declare it."

"You say it as if I regard Japan as my country."

His laughter cut off. "You don't?"

"It is a convenient base," I reflected. "Neo Domino City is my home town, and the centre of Duel Monsters still. Are you familiar with the game?"

"Can't say I am." The most refreshing thing about this entire conversation, was that he seemed as tense and uncomfortable as we felt, if his replies were anything to go by.

"A man of classic tastes, I presume," we remarked. "The premise revolves around two players with a set counter, summoning monsters to do battle. The battles may inflict damage, which is taken from the loser's counter. Players use spells and traps to support or injure the other player, and whoever can force the other's counter to reach zero first wins."

"Sounds like a stupid game."

"It shall become rather relevant when you battle the Arcadia Movement."

He turned to look at us. We smiled back.

We cannot speak of the road the car took, and nor of the rest of the conversation, save that it was well above-board, that Agent 007 was not partial to ephebophilia of any sort – we have our suspicions – and that MI6 had clearly been caught off guard. Either way, after a pat-down and search that had my cellphone confiscated and the contents searched by the agent, we were led through Vauxhall Cross, past hallways and consoles and offices and gyms towards a single office, dark wood and panelled and parquet flooring with a thick carpet.

We checked our watch. Eleven fifty-nine. All according to plan.

"Good evening," we took a seat after being shown by the agent into the office. There were two other men present. "I presume you are the leader of this intelligence agency. How may I address you?"

The door closed with a thud behind me.

One man, the bespectacled one in the brown cardigan beside me, stared before turning back to face Agent 007. The man across the desk, presumably the leader of the SIS, opened his mouth, closed it again, and sighed. "When you said appointment, I expected something else. I did not expect... such an entrance."

"I did not think you wanted a scene," we crossed our legs, staring at the otherwise nondescript man. "Of course, the identities of all of you are national secrets. Fortunately, I am somewhat acquainted with the trade of national secrets."

"I don't understand what you're saying," the man across the desk stated. "You may call me M."

"Very well. The British Arcadia Movement is divided into two parts; one in London, another in Edinburgh, and an outpost on the Emerald Isle, amongst many places. It also works with the other branches in Paris and Berlin to form the European Arcadia Movement. A tripartite of agencies is the chief administration of ten thousand European Arcadians. With secrets from Cheryl Madison, unwittingly assisted by Aurora Harrison, one of the Crown's agencies tried to manipulate the... _supply_ of Psychic Duelists, to say the least. To attempt to control one half is enough, but then there is an added complication of my arrival. The pawns fall, and... we have evidence."

M nodded, clasping his hands. "No self-respecting rag would publish that."

"If I were to sell this, perhaps it would make nothing but page three of the _Times,_" we agreed. "However, no Arcadian would trust the government for a very long time; therefore, you lose out specific human resources. You stand to lose out, and I understand that the private sector can offer so much more than a government job ever would. Consider also the implication; I do know for a fact that the SASR is recruiting Arcadians from the Oceanic Movement. Any agency worth their salt would want a Psychic Duelist on retainer, and inevitably, all such agreements are brokered through the Arcadia Movement. You will be facing monsters on all sides; not exactly a first, but quite the embarrassment. I do promise that, as Polaris."

"I am very aware of the situation, Miss Shimotsuki." M stiffly replied. "As long as you are here, though... what are you looking for, exactly?"

"A ceasefire," we replied. "Your government will not touch the Movements we have. In return, I give you a choice; espionage or industry. Choose; either the means to procure your pick of the human resource pool, or the allocation of Psychic Duelists away from your nation's politics."

M clicked his tongue. "As it were, to trust the fate of your Movement to the private sector..."

"Is not unlike any other ethnic minority," we corrected. "In fact, in some ways we could be an entirely separate ethnic minority."

"A little girl as representative," M commented. "It must be a... very desperate group. I do hope you realise that your being a child would not give you a privilege."

"It has never given me a privilege before," I replied. "I do not think it would begin now."

"Let me just say..." M began. "I do not trust you."

"The feeling seems to be mutual."

"Let me explain why I do not trust you, Miss," M continued. "You claim yourself a monster, and you seem to do all of that. People who oppose you mysteriously disappear, and you have some power and a monopoly over governmental access to people like you, anomalies, or monsters, as you seem to call yourself."

"I do not seem to be the only one," we murmured. "Evil Queen of Numbers."

There was a click and M could barely stifle the flinch in time. "Double-O Seven, I would appreciate that you do not dirty the office. Or draw arms in the office."

"I do not expect too much trust, or personal trust," we claimed. "Merely that each party shall mind each other's boundaries. I shall bring word to the entire government if I must, but do we have an agreement?"

"I cannot agree to those conditions." M paused. "I shall have to regretfully clean my office."

We closed my eyes. We should never see my killer coming; we knew that as soon as the barrel was pressed to the back of our skull.

"_... ouvrez votre porte, pour le Dieu d'amour._"

* * *

><p>It seems like a dream, being shot for the first time. Perhaps that was the wrong word, but I was simply tired. If only he would come back... if only he would return again. A Hunter back in place, like always; we never thought that he would leave.<p>

I thought that, with the Winter Queen finally gone, he would come back. I never knew the curse of my other half cut so deeply as that dream.

London snowed in July.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Critique, s'il vous plaît!<strong>_


	6. V: Jackpot 7

_**Tactical**_

* * *

><p><strong>V: Jackpot 7<strong>

London is experiencing its harshest winter to date, with temperatures in Moscow falling as low as -50 degrees Celsius. However, winter is happening in July.

Meteorologists are at a loss to explain such a sudden cold spell in midsummer, with temperatures dropping 16 to 20 degrees below the seasonal norm all over the country. The death toll is steadily rising, and the number of people hospitalized as a result of freezing temperatures and associated frost-related injuries is now being set over three hundred. Concerns are high as this is an extremely irregular occurrence that has left Londoners especially ill-prepared.

Lord Mayor Fiona Woolf has not volunteered any insight into how the government intends to cope with this crisis, saying only "this is not a state of emergency. These are unusual temperatures, but we expect this cold spell to end soon."

"This entire situation is outside the norm," Prime Minister David Cameron has been quoted in an emergency press conferences amidst mounting cries. "It's not global warming, it's not any natural phenomenon."

– BBC World News

* * *

><p>"C- Congratulations, D- Double-O Seven," we heard a softer voice. "It looks like she... well, she threw London into winter."<p>

"Doesn't usually snow in London," another voice, rugged and harsh, answered the first man.

"The Thames is freezing over. There are children skating on it." A few clicks and beeps. "None of my electronics are built to withstand this kind of cold. If my fingers drop off from frostbite, I'll send you into the field with a bionic hand. I'll be fun."

"Not as fun as intermittent death by freezing," came the reply. "Christ, killing her set off a snowstorm. Little bitch must have known."

"The thing is, what do we do now?"

"Finish the job? We could use those incendiary rounds."

"No... the rounds are unusable- Shit, my handheld."

"Quit it and start figuring out how to get through."

"An axe?"

"That's one solution."

A thud passed, faint and ethereal.

"This ice must be damn hard... fuck! And cold."

"The thing is, how does this ice form? Even calculating the humidity at the height of summer and assuming a hundred percent efficiency, this much ice shouldn't even be possible. And that ice... if my handheld wasn't failing, she's trapped in a negative two hundred degrees sphere. There's no way she could be living after being subject to that temperature."

"Assume," we heard a familiar voice, "that she is living, completely aware, and able to hear you. Then get away."

A pause, and the crunch of footsteps. "Who are you?" the first man demanded.

"Yusei Fudo," the familiar one replied. "This is my son, Regulus of the Central Arcadia Movement. This is Bushido, of the same, and Crux, of the Oceanic Arcadia Movement. Polaris is here, I see."

The voice turned, louder to us. "Setsuka. Wake up."

Setsuka? No... we were Winter... Setsuka, the name of this reincarnation... oh. We were Shimotsuki Setsuka, Setsuka Shimotsuki. Snow flower of the moon of frost.

Wake up?

Pain struck at first as the first man said something, and I felt rage pool, something we were too glad to act upon. Ice cracked and shattered, and feeling returned with a vengeance. Our fingers tightened, skin warmed slightly, and we could breathe.

More thuds, things that fell quickly when they lost energy, and we found our prey. A few more bullets distracted us, and we closed fingers round the barrel of something cold and metallic. The metal shattered before we lashed out, and the man fell, along with most of the surroundings. Frost grew in our path and in our wake, storms blew and cold spread, before we found ourselves confronted with brambles of the hated.

"_Stop_!" a boy's voice shouted. "_Shimotsuki, look around you! And the skies!_"

The... skies?

We were the Queen- no, we were the Cold Queen- no-

"Ah?"

I was standing alone in the midst of snow-covered wreckage. Storm winds billowed, and I refrained from shivering only due to long practice. I looked around me, at the wreckage of London, at the floating ice that made the surface of the Thames flowing just a while away. The brambles of Black Garden held me fast, and I let them. The smell of frost was intense, muting all other smells, and overhead the skies were overcast and snowing.

"I was... shot." I turned to regard the destruction wrought. "What happened?"

"What _happened_?" the voice of Ryuusei Fudo roared. "This after we received the dummy message from anyone tampering with your phone- what drove _you_ to destroy a building, that's one thing!"

"I was shot," I blinked, staring at the remnants of a pillar covered in blood. "I think..."

"Missy?" Nakamura-san walked to me, kneeling at the last step.

I nearly collapsed on the ground, and I would have if not for him. "There was... files. He was here. I had so little time. I thought... there was so little time to plan, I had to... and there was a shot. I was shot. Why am I here?"

"We'll have you attended to at the Tower," Nakamura-san murmured. "Can you walk? Or should I carry you?"

"I don't think I can move," I whispered.

"Then I will carry you," Nakamura-san nodded. "A fireman's carry seems undignified."

I nodded, barely flinching as he picked me up in a princess hold, and we left that place as soon as the echoes of sirens resounded.

* * *

><p>The Tower was outfitted with an infirmary, kitted with anything short of a full hospital they could get. I was set into a bed after a change of clothes, and doctors with solemn faces looked in now and then. Rest to treat exhaustion was the order of the day, and yet...<p>

"Dewloren," I sighed the name.

_As you command._

"What happened?"

_The Queen of Air and Darkness made an appearance. You are indeed an able vessel for Winter's monarch._

"Winter?" I blinked.

_The Ice Barrier tribe was once ruled as part of a coalition of powers, headed by a great queen. I informed you of it, yes?_

"Maeve," I whispered. "You wanted to find her reincarnation, apparently the continually reincarnated Queen of Winter. Your tribe were her direct servants."

_That was not the full tale I recounted. I did mention that the twelve dimensions of we spirits were searched. I did not include the human realm. Given the extremely long lifespan of any reincarnation of Her Majesty, it was assumed that we would find an extremely long-lived human. One day, I was summoned by an incredible force, and a young girl awaited me. An imperious, autocratic girl with no regard for my opinion and only in my use. I confess, I was quite taken aback until I realised the familiarity of your presence._

My grip tightened upon the sheets. "No way..."

_Queen of Winter, the worst monsters of Duel Monster Spirits, the ruler of such beasts... an imperious, autocratic disposition the likes of which is used to crush rebellion absolutely. On the day you made our contract, you also reclaimed your right of rule over Winter's power. You are a monster... but you will be a Duel Monster, not a monster amongst humans. In exchange for the power of Winter, you offered yourself... this is the price._

"I... knew this..."

_You will forever be a monster._

"I already know..."

_For every human you save through this Arcadia Movement, the more you are barred from the paradise you eked with your own hands. The more sorrow and anger, the more Her Majesty shall awaken, the more Setsuka Shimotsuki dies, little by little. The lonely, autocratic and imperious girl will be replaced by the autocratic, lonely and imperious Queen of Winter._

"I know that already!"

Glass shattered, metal bent, and flowers froze over in their false vases. My hand was trembling. "Get out of my sight."

_As you command. I shall await your next order... my Queen._

I wanted to cry, but I found that another visitor was coming as the door opened. He stood there, Orion-niisan, eyes wide and staring. He wore dark clothings; a shame, since white was good on him.

"Good day, Orion-niisan," I answered.

"I saw... the destruction," Orion-niisan awkwardly replied. "So... it's been four years."

"About there."

Orion-niisan crossed his arms. "And... Dewloren?"

Ensured that I would become a monster? "As usual."

"That's... good," Orion-niisan nodded. "Not that it's good, but at least it means you're safe for now."

"Orion-niisan... how goes your search?" I asked.

"Well, trying to break a contract is actually harder than first thought," Orion-niisan mused. "Seika, how is she?"

"I think... we should focus on the present," I answered.

"True... the Security Service might come after you," Orion-niisan nodded. "I'll see what I can do. After that, I'm headed to Wiltshire.

"What for?" I asked.

"Stonehenge. Plus, I'm looking into possibilities," Orion-niisan smiled, a brief but sad one. "I might have to continue for a good long while."

"You won't be coming back to Japan with me?"

"Setsuka... I promise, I'll find a cure."

I don't want a cure, you impossible man! I want some time with my family before I have to leave it all behind! "But... Seika misses you."

"Right now, you're the most important one," Orion-niisan gave a smile that looked false and pacifying. "Nakamura-san said that you made the Arcadia Movement what it is today. I'm very proud of you. So, until I come back and find my way, you'll hold the fort down, right?"

"O- Of course," I whispered, my hand drifting towards my deck. "I'll hold the fort... and until you find your way around the Arcadia Movement, I'll continue. I promise. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to _get lost_."

"E- Eh?"

"Until next time, Orion-niisan," I answered before I unleashed the Compulsory Evacuation Device. As his eyes widened before he disappeared, my hand fell, and I remembered, at last. The last verse.

_Au clair de la lune,  
>On n'y voit qu'un peu.<br>On chercha la plume,  
>On chercha du feu.<br>En cherchant de la sorte,  
>Je ne sais ce qu'on trouva;<br>Mais je sais que la porte  
>Sur eux se ferma.<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Critique, s' il vous plaît!<strong>_


	7. Epilogue: Eagle Eye

_**Tactical**_

**Epilogue: Eagle Eye**

File #54: Setsuka Shimotsuki, aka Cold Queen, aka Anomaly #007

The Arcadia Movement, the premier world organisation of Psychic Duelists, known players of the game Duel Monsters who can realise the destructive potential of the game. Within its hierarchy, a class system of I through V. There are only twenty known Class V Psychic Duelists in the world. All of them report to her, the ruler of the Arcadia Movement, and the closest thing to an multi-national civilian army the world has ever amassed.

On July 20XX, Shimotsuki caused a minor blizzard over London, disrupting European weather patterns for the subsequent five years in self-defence against Agent 007's head-shot. Inexplicably, All other information pertaining to the Movement, or known Anomalies, had disappeared under mysterious circumstances that we hypothesis were stolen at Shimotsuki's behest. Total casualties include the deliberate destruction of twenty men, half of Vauxhall Cross, and total damages in ₤1,500,000 (est).

Shimotsuki has placed herself, with this action, upon the watch lists of several notable intelligence agencies. She has shown awareness of all of them, and tends to be unreceptive to CIA missions to wrest control.

We theories that Shimotsuki may hold some latent form of attachment disorder, from examination of her digital records. Shimotsuki's attachment stems primarily to men, slightly older than herself, with dark hair and blue eyes. We theorise her type, based upon the current profile of her current boyfriend, James Crocodile Cook II. He is...

* * *

><p>Halfway through typing, the text blinked, the cursor shifted, and the text eliminated itself.<p>

I sat back, about to rise until some force set me immobile.

"It's quite a speciality, that rugged face of yours," she commented. "I quite underestimated you."

The only other I had known to attempt resurrection in such a manner was perched on the desk, an oversight I should resolve. Her legs were crossed, and not exactly sexy as much as illuminative of how uninteresting she found me to limit her own movement. She wore dark clothings again; black for judgement, and her eyes were cold. Perhaps that was the most chilling thing, that a killer's eyes could be seen in such a youthful face.

I saw the report, the multitudes of reports scatter before my eyes into blank space. "I'm going to have to retype that."

"What for?" Her eyes flashed, and I swore that they were green instead of blue. "You're never going to remember it."

* * *

><p>Like this, we held the only file left, the only reports we could gather from one great deception of a government intelligence organisation. We crushed the file bit by bit, and set it on fire for good measure. As the flames burned merrily, the skies overhead rumbled.<p>

"Such a joke," we murmured, the closest thing we had ever spoken as a lie. "It started with him."

_**Fini.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Okay, I gotta admit: the only reason I posted this was to give Setsuka and Orion depth for another fic of mine, Grisaille Goal.<strong>_

_**The presence of Bond is understated here, and that's how I played it; understated but a permanent spectre. The threat of manipulation from governmental or international forces is a ghost that influences nearly all of Setsuka's and Orion's motivations, and partially by their strained familial bond with each other. There are dossiers and missives that highlight how threatening most nations regard the Arcadia Movement, and their actions. Of course, they're not going to stop, and it's this permanent threat that has hung over Setsuka ever since, especially since they have proven completely willing to shoot her.**_

_**It's not a coherent story. It's a horrible work, frankly. But it's one that I wrote.**_

_**Please review!**_


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